


How does one, quote, 'make love?'

by TheOneAndOnly1993



Series: Love in Kamihama [5]
Category: Magia Record: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Cunnilingus, F/F, First Time, Just Masara being incredibly awkward, Large Breasts, Loud Sex, Naked Cuddling, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Scissoring, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25140484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneAndOnly1993/pseuds/TheOneAndOnly1993
Summary: Sequel to 'What is Love? (no, really, what is it?)After surviving a good two years as an official couple, roommates and lovers Kokoro and Masara decide to finally engage in the language of intimacy.However, Masara's never touched herself before, and it's not as sexy as it sounds.
Relationships: Awane Kokoro/Kagami Masara
Series: Love in Kamihama [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740484
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	How does one, quote, 'make love?'

_ I’m… way too excited for this.  _

_ Like it feels kinda pathetic when I remember how little Masara cares about these things.  _

And once again, Kokoro’s ponderings about her girlfriend drifted to the depraved, unsatisfied, blue-balled “ape” part of her brain. 

Such thoughts normally followed after self-pleasure. But tonight they came strong, without precedence, rife with doubt:  _ So… what’s changed? Why the heck does Masara want to do this all of a sudden? Like…  _

_ Like what does she see in me, physically? What changed within her?  _

_ Is she determined to ‘pay me back’ with the one thing we’ve denied each other for years?  _

_ Is that what this is? A pity f—…  _

_ A pity screw?  _

She ought to just be thankful they were finally going this far. Luckily for them both, Kokoro had never been one to so readily accept Occam’s razor. 

_ I just wish Masa-chan would finish up in there already!  _

Her writhing innards, thundering heart, the numbness Kokoro’s heels pressed within her buttocks and her shirt raking feather-light touches across her curves—everything she was acutely aware of, of her otherwise total nakedness. Like her sensitivity had been cranked up to eleven, knowing what Masara was about to do to her, and every passing second spearing Kokoro nerves, guttural shocks surging from the highest peaks of her breasts all the way to the boiling pool of feeling wriggling between her legs. 

Kokoro gasped, shuddered; then, when it faded, growled at the sharp peaks crowning the swell of her chest. By the collar Kokoro yanked her shirt out in front of her and held it. 

And ignored the deep sense of loss, the want her untouched bosom cried for. She couldn’t help but be a little excited, doubts be darned. 

_ I’m such a horndog,  _ she thought in equal parts amusement and dejection—a weird middleground in her heart.  _ What does Masara think about this side of me?  _ Another irritating doubt. 

Once, she would think Masara had no opinion. And she genuinely has none about many things, which did indeed make for an easy relationship in some aspects. But vague yet opaque in others, particularly when “thoughtful ideas” were always reacted with something along the lines of “I enjoy whatever we do together.” 

_ Give a reaction, dang-nabbit! The whole world already knows you love me and love being with me! _

Masara had always meant it. Obviously, from the bottom of her heart! But would it  _ kill her _ to notice Kokoro’s feelings without them being verbalized all the time? Did it come from a lack of confidence, or experience reading such things, despite their years-long bond? 

Maybe, just maybe, Kokoro was just being an ungrateful bitch. And a needy one to boot. 

_ I just want my love, the specific meanings in individual gestures, to come clear to her.  _ Perhaps in a Freudian way, this was why physical intimacy with Masara appealed so much: the wordless expression of it all, “the conversation,” as Mitama put it.  _ I’ll believe that. Definitely a nicer way of seeing it than just wanting to push my breasts into hers.  _

Across the room, water hissed under the whir of a fan, backed by the vigorous rhythm of scrubbing. A pair of shadows peeked under the door crack, swaying slightly. Obviously that was Masara, but the little dance (if you could call it that) when she brushed her teeth was adorably iconic. 

Soon, she would be ready. And then they would… they’d…  _ Masara would— _

_ This is it,  _ Kokoro mused. Realized—oh, God, sex! They were about to do legitimate sex!  _ This’s it, this’s it!  _ It hit her once more, twice in succession, staggering her breath as her brain melted into goo. The bathroom door tilted.  _ This really  _ is it: _ Masa-chan is gonna give herself to me and I’m... gonna give myself to her. She’ll see my b-body and… react… react-positively-please-and I’ll… I’ll finally see hers; touch one anothers… even t-t-taste. Oh, gosh, how is she going to react if I try going down on her?!  _

How would she feel seeing Kokoro in the buff? 

Would she find it weird? 

She herself was so slender, yet curvy everywhere it counted—a genuine angel’s body. Would Masara find the softness of Kokoro’s middle odd, or the way her breasts… s-sagged a little?

…

...

What was Masara even planning to  _ do? _

How was she planning to go about this? Did she have experience?  _ Research?  _ And isn’t that basically cheating? 

She never gave any inclination of desire before, so where was this coming from?! She’d just walked through the door with a symbolic anniversary necklace, squeezed Kokoro’s chest, whispered hotly how much she  _ wanted her—! _

Abruptly the faucet shut off—because Masara was almost done and about to emerge—and the writhing cried out tenfold in turn, bursting Kokoro’s ribcage open alongside a torrent of thoughts:  _ Oh gosh oh gosh this is happening it’s happening this is really happening!  _

_ My sad lonely fantasies are going to be real NOW!  _

A thought gripped her throat, yanked it down to her guts:  _ What if I hurt her?  _

Kokoro’s innards bucked at the thought—Masara crying, curling up away from her because… because she was too eager, or something. Like if Masara didn’t know how to object in this situation, or didn’t wanna stop for Kokoro’s sake. 

That’s the absolute worst-case scenario, sure, but... 

But with Masara, no act of love was too dumbass to dismiss. 

For better or worse. 

_ Usually better, definitely for the better.  _ The time when Masara ran herself ragged playing at Coordinator’s groundskeeper came first and foremost. She got free services for it, but that wasn’t her goal, merely a benefit. Rather, it was for the bounty left by Kamihama’s Witches. Not for herself, though—in fact, she’d go all out until Jozlyn would emerge and leave her emotionally exhausted, but purified, foregoing the majority of seeds to Kokoro’s, at the time, overwhelming stress.

And everything Masara suffered those weeks, alone, was to save Kokoro the trouble of Witch Hunting during finals month. 

And Kokoro was too happy for her supportive girlfriend to seriously question her methods  _ once _ . Not until a dinner passed them by with Masara staring hollow-eyed at her meal. One simple question later— _ Are you not hungry? _ —and Kokoro was suddenly the worst, most inattentive girlfriend who ever lived. 

Through her uncontrollable,  _ inconsolable  _ sobbing, Masara said she couldn’t feel anything about Kokoro anymore. Not about her as a person nor the food she cooked. 

A trip to Mitama’s brought the whole story into light, as well as a side effect of using Jozlyn. Masa-chan’s apathy had faded days later, she was  _ happy  _ to inform, much like a smoker’s cough after abstaining from cigarettes. 

Masara had, of course, lied up until that point, saying she obtained grief seeds from joining Rika and Ren on their Hunts. But most “of coursey” of all, after Masara regained her emotions, Kokoro was calm enough to feel ticked at her blatant disregard for her own health  _ again _ ; but (and this is where the “of coursey” of course comes in), she couldn’t maintain her ire once her girlfriend’s iciness melted away to genuine remorse. 

It played like an A-B conversation instead of an A-B-A-B-A one: 

“How could you—?” etcetera. 

“I’m sorry. I wanted to alleviate some of your stress,” Masa-chan had said, “but instead I made it worse. But this was all I could think to do, Koko-chan; the only way I knew I could help you.” 

She had blamed herself—still did, in all likelihood, because that’s the kind of person Masa-chan is. Which… was good! It’s good to own one’s mistakes! 

But if one were to be objective, this all started because Kokoro had dismissed Masara’s offer to help her study, her own “you do so much for me already” mentality a perfect mirror. And in the end, ‘What the hell?’ she thought. Neither of them were hurt, and Kokoro aced all but one of her exams in thanks to Masa-chan’s efforts (damn English). 

Kokoro sighed, the memory melting gently around her like a second shirt. 

But there, staring her in the face, stood reality: the most complicated “conversation” they’ll ever have, the kind where words would say comparatively less than actions and reactions. 

Something thundered deep within, joined by another thought:  _ What if I don’t please her at all?!  _

Kokoro never forgot the way Masa-chan folded from their first kiss: flushed, panting, confused but enjoying what she felt at the very least.  _ Although different things please different girls,  _ Kokoro remembered.  _ And my confidence won’t be able to take it if she looks at me funny, like if I try to… I dunno, stick a finger in her butt.  _

Not that Kokoro would go so far—tonight. Assuming Masa-chan would wanna do this again, and that she didn’t have an inadequate first experience. 

And doubly assuming she wouldn’t mind a little butt-play. Was Kokoro getting ahead of herself? She shook her head—it’s a fantasy! Everybody has those! 

Light bleeding in from under the door crack abruptly clicked to black, killing the bathroom fan. Kokoro mentally, emotionally, and physically prepared herself. Her legs were numb—half-moons embedded in the smoothness of her freshly-shaven thighs.

The knob turned, Kokoro stiffened, as if trying to look respectable despite her utter lack of pants.

...It turned slowly. And the door opened—slowly. With anyone else, Kokoro would think they were teasing her. But because it was Masa-chan, she must be equally as nervous. 

But before long, almost instantly, there she stood in front of Kokoro: the forever love of her life, the silver-haired beauty, Kagami Masara. She was clad in the usual grey booty shorts and her baggy bedtime tee, the one that always dipped and bared a shoulder. Innocent but sexy, a look Masara adopted no matter the outfit. 

Their lamp’s golden glow bathed her as she emerged, moving one long, curvy leg after the other, hips cocking with each careful step. Masara’s fists, balled at her sides, loosened only as she came to a stop at the end of their bed. Her shoulders remained unusually squared, and she was glaring  _ hard.  _

‘Angrily sexy,’ that was Kokoro’s gut reaction. 

_ This is it.  _ She inhaled her courage, shut out heavy thoughts to completely drink in Masara’s presence. “Hey, gorgeous.” That just came out, Kokoro didn’t even plan on saying it—but it felt so right. 

Her beloved inhaled deep, her bosom expanding in silence. 

She exhaled. “G-good evening.” Then, she bowed. All the way down, and at the hips, no less. “Gor—uh—g-gorgeous.” 

Holy shit, what was  _ that?!  _

All tension rocketed clean off Kokoro’s shoulders as laughter burst from her soul. “Sorry!” she cried into cupped hands. “I’m sorry! It’s not you, it’s just—that was so  _ unlike you! _ ” Masara leveled her with a stoic glare. “Oh, uh, I mean, greetings,” gasped Kokoro, throwing an arm before her in a bow, “and salutations, my lovely ma-dame.” Kokoro tried— _ tried— _ to hold it in. 

But laughter sputtered forth. 

Masara was gazing aside, massaging her bare shoulder. Suddenly, this wasn’t very funny anymore. Worse yet, she said nothing towards the ensuing silence 

A draft tickling her buttocks brought Kokoro to yank her shirt down, pin it with her heels. 

It was still quiet as she did so. 

The silence permeated after. 

A second passed, then another, and another. 

Masara was too nervous to speak. Either that or Kokoro had offended her girlfriend, which would be a first, but their relationship had been chock full of those. Like tonight. 

“Sorry. I was more laughing at the break in character than what you were actually saying. Still mean, though.” 

“That’s what I figured,” Masara told the wall, gripping her elbow. “It’s okay, though.” 

Which meant something clearly wasn’t. “I’m… really, really happy we’re doing this,” said Kokoro, ready to combust spontaneously as Masara gazed upon her. “Are you sure  _ you  _ want to do this, though? And that you’re not just doing it because _ I’d  _ like to?” 

Masara’s body snapped fully to hers at attention, her mouth giving a twitch. “I—”

“You know I gotta ask.” Kokoro clapped her hands together, bowing genuinely. “Please don’t take offense! I really,  _ really  _ just don’t wanna mess this up! You don’t care about this stuff, I know, but I want it to be special—!” 

“ _ Kokoro _ , I’m aware. And I do care. It’s why we’re in the here and now.” 

Years ago, it felt rude to second guess Masara’s (seemingly) decisive moves. But that was before they got together, before the fiasco that nearly ended them, when Masara solidified herself as selfish and stupid as any other human. 

“Listen to what I’m saying: I want you,” she continued. Through the orange alighting her pale face, Masara’s cheeks looked as colorless as usual. “You’re very important to me, Kokoro. I assure you that I want this now, too. I told you as much in the kitchen, that I find you attractive—” 

Kokoro nodded, waving her hand. “I know, I know all that. Pretty sure you felt that way all the other times we got this far. Er, preparation phase aside.” Usually Masara acted at the drop of the hat. Kinda like now, though the heads-up was a nice first. “But that’s not where I’m doubting you. I just... hope you understand why I’m being cautious right now. Though we haven’t been perfect, I never want us to assume one another’s feelings again.” Masara opened her mouth, sadness writ in her eyes, self-loathing on the tip of her tongue surely. “And it’s  _ not  _ from a lack of trust,” Kokoro reassured. “Not totally. I just wanna make extra sure our first time is special. Like, as in we’re both  _ comfortable _ —” 

“You are evidently anxious, or are showing clear signs of discomfort,” Masa-chan said, a little too eagerly. She blinked, barely (but still blatantly) surprised. “That’s… all I’ve noticed this evening. Since dinner, and… now…” 

Masa-chan gave a start as the hand gripping her hemline was held out in front of her. Kokoro squeezed as their eyes met, her smile so warm it touched her own heart: “It means  _ nothing  _ bad on your end. Alright? This is just me and my silly nerves—” 

“Talk to me.” Warm fingers squeezed slowly around Kokoro’s. “Please. It… discomforts me to be a source of pain for you.” 

Kokoro blanched, she couldn’t help it: Masara had always found a way to cut to the core of things with just a few words. 

Sadly for them both, that meant voicing the hurricane of emotions that had stewed within Kokoro these last several… years, really. 

“I don’t know.” When Masara tilted her head, Kokoro knew she had spoken aloud: “I don’t know, Masa-chan,” she uttered. “You’re this collected, almost refined, beautiful person while I… I’m just a Plain Jane on an above-average body who was smitten with you from the word ‘go.’ Yet wer’re about to have sex, and I don’t know why.” 

“I…  _ bother  _ you, ‘joking’ about sex at least once a month despite hypocritically wanting it to be on your terms. Then all of a sudden you decide we’re good to go, and I don’t know why.” 

“You don’t have an interest in anything like physical pleasure. Now mine coincides with your own… and I just don’t get it. I don’t know why, yet sex should always be a two-way street about a couple  _ wanting  _ to make each other feel good, yeah?” 

Masara swallowed, and nodded her head unusually quickly, a mystery as to whether she was agreeing with the logic or the sentiment. Maybe both. 

Hopefully. 

“Meaning,” Kokoro hesitated, Masara cocking her head, “meaning you  _ want me  _ to… t-to, y’know, take you, and… and you’re wanting to do the same with me. Those were our parameters.” Kokoro found herself wringing the hem of her shirt like a child. “Yet you’ve given me nothing to go off of, all these years we’ve been together.” Kokoro wrinkled at her tone. “Sorry I sound like such a petty girlfriend.” 

“You’re not. You’re asking for the bare minimum as my partner, and I have been unfulfilling in that regard.” Ever so slightly, Masara’s knees rubbed together. “Your… body looks soft to the touch.” Oof. “Rather, it always is. I could tell when we cuddle. But… it’s pleasing to the eye, to see it naked for me.” 

Even though her thighs were squeezed together, even though this was her girlfriend of two years—it was also Masara, and Kokoro had never been so exposed to anyone in this manner. She yanked her shirt down between her legs, the heat tight and shivering up her belly.

Stupidity was the dominant emotion right now, growing tenfold by every silent moment. “Masa-chan, please say something, anything. I’m dying inside over here…” 

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Kokoro swallowed, hoping the sudden heat in her face went down with it as Masara continued softly: “I don’t know what to say right now. I could think of nothing all day, all throughout my shower, dinner, and brushing my teeth and right this moment. Nothing. Not a thing feels appropriate for this moment, for you.” She was staring at her feet, her arms two stiff boards ending in steel-hewn fists.

“Anything,” Kokoro’s feelings said aloud. “Just say what’s on your mind, Masa-chan.  _ Anything  _ you do is worth the world to me.” 

“Very well. Apologies in advance.” Then she lifted her face—her  _ cherry-red face _ —and… and aggressively proclaimed, “I’m starting to find you more than beautiful, Koko-chan!”

Masara’s breathing was heavy, her gaze just as intense. Positively deadly, all of it. That’s how Masara always seemed, even after Kokoro came to know her better. She always seemed to exude this intensity, this accidental passion, that no one else could possibly replicate with sincerity.

It was awkward, though, as always—and not at all what Kokoro’s selfish side wanted to hear right now. She wanted to bathe in articulated worship! 

But that wouldn’t be Masa-chan. 

_ And this is the best she can manage right now.  _ It was more than good enough, Kokoro realized. Masara had only ever cited her irrefutable beauty, something she hoped Masa-chan never got sick of. That in itself was special enough, something only Masara could say specifically to Kokoro. 

“You’re…” Masara continued quietly, boring into Kokoro’s eyes, “you are the only person in the world I find beautiful. I mean that.” 

And yet, despite all that, here and now, she was trying something new—and it was fucking adorable. 

“Oh?” Kokoro tossed her wavy chestnut locks, playing it up. “Have I ascended to Aphrodite-levels of beauty?”

“That is an improbability, subjective opinion notwithstanding, considering she’s meant to be the most beautiful being in existence on top of assuming she was real.” 

“Hey, maybe the Greek gods were all real and they were magical girls.” 

Masara frowned. “It would be disheartening if the entirety of our species’ history was orchestrated by Kyubey, right down to the mythos.” 

Kokoro giggled, rising to her knees, to eye-level. “You’re funny.” And Masara was clearly stalling. “C’mere.” She leaned in, hands on Masara’s rigid shoulders. 

Only for her lips to press against warm, slightly sweaty fingers. 

The hand lowered, giving way to a soft but serious expression. “You still doubt me. I want to make myself crystal clear. Allow me, please.” 

It’s not often that Kagami Masara pleaded—she really was nervous. Kokoro’s heart skipped a beat. 

“You don’t gotta force yourself.” Kokoro let her eyes shut, her lips to push out, breathing the words, “You made yourself perfectly clear in the kitchen.” That was more for her own pitiful confidence than Masara’s, but a prompt reply sated it well: lips latching around Kokoro’s. “Mm!” she peeped, delighted. 

Kokoro cocked her head, parting with a smack, a gasp, smelling and tasting and feeling the minty coolness of Masara’s breath. “You’re clearly eager,” gasped Kokoro, feeling herself grinning. “That’s new. I like it.  _ I like it. _ ” She scooped up Masara’s lips in hers, nibbled twice: once without teeth and again, daring, with light ministrations of her incisors. 

A grumble rolled from Masara’s mouth into hers, soothing. Kokoro’s body shuddered, her butt jutting out as excitement bucked her in the stomach. The feeling compounded, twisting her innards like a loving massage as Masara squeezed the sleeves of her shirt, bunched them in her fists, shaking, breathing hard, her eyes wrenched shut. 

And it was over, Masara had pulled away. Kokoro swallowed her disappointment, her need. Masara gazed with hooded eyes, parted ruddy lips puffing hot-cool air within the short space between their faces. 

“You’re so sexy,” Kokoro blurted out. 

Masara swallowed, and Kokoro’s cheek was suddenly grabbed, cupped in a warm cradle. This moment should never end, she decided, clapping her hand atop Masara’s. 

“You’ve changed into my first anniversary gift to you,” Masara tried observing calmly. She swallowed hard. “And nothing else.” 

Kokoro still held her as she craned back, shooting a smile down upon it, the mugshot side profiles of her favorite rock band. 

Gripping the front by its hemline, Kokoro anchored her shirt between her thighs, smiling (hopefully) sexily. “I couldn’t resist the occasion. It’s like you’re wrapped around me every time I wear it,” she said as she swayed gently from side to side. Caught between her breasts, molded perfectly around them, Kokoro hoped seeing her gift used in such a way would incite something arousing within Masara. 

“Kokoro.” Masara took her other hand to the one pinned by Kokoro’s, peeling it away and grasping it in both hands before them. “I love you. I will  _ always  _ love you.” 

Yep, her heart just skipped a beat. “And… and I love you Masa-chan. So much.” It skipped another ten. 

Masara shook her head. “You gave me something no one has ever had the patience to maintain. And I love you for that. When I was at my lowest point, afraid of the thing I was, you came and insisted it was something worth loving. And I love you for that. You make me feel… just feel. That makes life worth living all the more, something I never would have understood the feeling of if we didn’t cross paths. If I didn’t love you enough to want to change for you.” 

“Masa-chan!” Kokoro choked. She wiped her cheeks into her sleeves, making sure Masara saw her pained smile and understood. 

And she continued, because Masara now knew these weren’t tears of heartache. 

“I  _ love  _ you, Koko-chan,” she said. “I love your kindness, I love your understanding. I love your body because it’s yours and I want…” She gulped, her eyes squeezing shut. “And I want it. I want to make you feel good, and that’s what will make me feel good: learning it, knowing it, making you happy. Let me, Koko-chan. Let me love all of you tonight.” 

_ So  _ she  _ wants to pleasure  _ me  _ specifically.  _

Tingles rippled all over, from her lips to her heart, to the depths of her very soul, from her breasts to the dampness cloying between her thighs. “Then do it,” growled Kokoro, capturing Masara’s cheek in a kiss, then her jaw—every inch of it to her earlobe, nibbling with lip alone. 

_ “Kokoro,”  _ gasped Masara, crying, “Koko!” as her earlobe was assaulted by the hungry teeth of a sex-starved girlfriend. 

“Masa-chan,” she breathed in her ear, lingering, inhaling the sweet aroma of her aura before uttering,  _ “fuck me, please.”  _

She greatly enjoyed the ensuing shocks wracking Masara’s body. Kokoro embraced her fully, in case the whimpers were of fear. 

“I want it,” Kokoro whimpered, squeezing tight. Her rear swayed on its own, crying for attention in more ways than one. “I’ve wanted you for so many years. Give it to me. Show me how much you love me.” 

_ “But I’m scared.”  _ The fear wavering her words cinched like barbed wire around the writhing want in Kokoro—the mood had suddenly changed and yet it was unsurprising, as if subconsciously anticipated. “I don’t know what to do. I’m not good enough to express what I want.” 

“Yes you are. Tell me what you’re feeling right now.” The Emotion Game had become their best tool for communication since that horrible incident way back when. 

Masara tangled herself around Kokoro, sharing the embrace. “This isn’t the time for that. You shouldn’t have to play the therapist on our anniversary.” This genuine compassion and self-sacrificing nature, even now as Masa-chan’s body trembled with primal want… 

Kokoro swallowed her moan, her breasts rubbing against the roundness of Masara’s, radiating want. Cries electrifying deep within the flesh, beyond the thick layer of nerves and fat that comprised them:  _ that  _ was want. “Tell me, Masa-chan. Tell me, tell me, I want you to,  _ please _ .” 

Masara murmured in her ear, “I feel the same as I did when I thought I’d make your life miserable.” 

“You didn’t. You won’t now. I promise,  _ I promise. _ ” 

Far in the back of her mind, Kokoro felt like an idiot for being this way: getting aroused by what amounted to her beloved’s insecurities, begging to be screwed senseless by a girl who didn’t even know where to start. 

The rest of her was so stupidly overjoyed to be sharing this moment with Kagami Masara. 

“I wasn’t finished,” said her girlfriend. Their bosoms squeezed together. Kokoro muffled a gasp, focusing everything on what Masara said next: “For a while now… I’ve gotten used to your body, for lack of a proper descriptor. I’ve… noticed it more. Its shape, its peaks and dips. I always knew how physically attractive you were, but I started feeling... happy, I suppose. As happy as I am when I think about how lucky I am to have you. Whenever I thought that it was mine, your…  _ body _ , that’s how I’d feel.” Fingers closed around Kokoro’s back, bunching up her shirt. “It’s mine and mine alone. Your perfect figure is mine. Sorry if that was an odd thing to say.” 

Kokoro giggled. “You’re getting greedy for your property. Your instincts wanna know its ticks, claim it.” A draft teased the whole of her rear-end, prickling the warm wetness soaking between her legs. “That’s hot, Masa-chan.” Her entire lower-half was exposed, and only for Masara. “I’m all yours, always.” 

“I know,” Masara almost  _ growled _ . “You’re mine. I want to be worthy, but I don’t know if I can.” 

Kokoro pulled away, as far as she could with the security Masara gripped her with. Enough to take her face in her hands. “Just be. Your. Self. That’s all I ever want or need from you. Everything else is just icing on the cake.” 

Masara swallowed, placid as ever otherwise. “I may disappoint you tonight.” 

“Then we won’t stop until I— _ we _ —feel satisfied.” 

“Koko— _ chan! _ ” Masara’s wispy voice lurched as Kokoro grabbed her small, soft butt and hoisted, fell back, Masara falling on top of her. 

As expected, Masara’s battle instincts brought her hands whipping out before her, leaving her propped above Kokoro: hair falling in an all-encompassing silver curtain, her deep collar dipping low, presenting a glorious view of the gap between her perfectly round breasts. 

“You wanted to start, yeah?” Kokoro stroked Masara’s skinny forearms up and down, down and up. “You wanna know how?”

Masara swallowed. Then her head bobbed.  _ Then  _ she said, hoarsely, “Yeah.” 

“Then we’re both gonna stop thinking.” She replaced Masara’s forearms with the flesh of her thighs, their soft coolness. “That’s step one.” She ran up with feather-light touches—Masara’s stance widened to lean into the touch—until they closed around Masara’s round rear-end, sinfully hot and plush through the thin fabric hugging it. “Just stop thinking,” she cooed. 

Except... this was too smooth and flawless to still be her shorts. A double squeeze made Masara inhale sharply, buckle a bit.

_ Oh.  _ Masara’s eyes, wide as can be, bore into Kokoro’s. “That was an unusual reaction,” she announced.

As if in warning! Ha! 

Kokoro smirked, gathering the whole of Masara’s shorts in one hand, keeping the other full of her pert little ass. Kokoro tugged the thonged fabric, pulling Masara closer, her breasts riding up against Kokoro’s floppers. “No panties,” Kokoro realized to her delight. 

“Let, me,” Masara managed, narrowing her slumped stance for support. “Koko-chan, let me, please. Please, let me give you something for these two years we’ve been together.” 

So part of this was repayment. Not a healthy reason to be making love, rationalized the ever-quieting half of Kokoro’s brain, but the rest was screaming at her to slam her crotch into Masara’s and grind and grind until she came. 

Masara’s heart was a hundred-percent in this. She genuinely wanted all of Kokoro, to make her feel good, to show her love the best way she could. 

Who was Kokoro to scold her for this? 

“Then remember step one,” Kokoro said evenly, grinning like a fool, she could tell, “and stop thinking. And the last step, step two: let your instincts take over. Do what you want. You wanna show your love? Then let your body and needs do all the talking. I could read between the lines. You know that.” 

Masara straightened up, just barely straddling Kokoro’s hips, just so damn  _ close  _ to the exposed flesh that would be in full-view if she just looked  _ down.  _ But she didn’t. Masara instead hesitantly grabbed the hem of Kokoro’s gift shirt, never breaking her stare. 

“May I disrobe you?” Even as she asked, a breeze kissed the slight swell of Kokoro’s belly up to her navel. 

Kokoro’s hips wiggled on their own. “Your instincts seem to wanna~” 

Masara swallowed, blinking away the glaze in her eyes. “As do yours. But do  _ you  _ want to? Are you  _ comfortable? _ ” 

This may get annoying if it’s kept up—a thought that perished on the spot, nothing more than Kokoro’s horniness gritting its teeth. This was still Masara, and the whole of Kokoro’s heart swelled to a smile on her lips. “I’m always comfortable with you,” she said, lifting her arms, laying them above her head where she lay. 

Masara nodded. “Yes. Alright. Here we go,” she uttered so seriously all of a sudden. A deep breath, gazing hard upon the hem of Kokoro’s shirt as she bunched it up around her torso— _ Who is bracing themselves more, her or me?  _ Kokoro mused. She thought faintly of Masara’s rigidness; it must still be nerves, she clearly wants this, too, right? 

Right? 

The thought and all others died a brutal death: Masara swiftly, deftly swept Kokoro’s shirt off her body—her soft stomach exposed, catching briefly on her breasts until they flopped upon either side with a flick of her nipples—“Nyah!” gasped Kokoro—and finally off her head, wavy brown locks funneling through alongside the final stretch of her arms. “Woah!” she yelped at the suddenness of it all. 

It was an instant, beginning and ending there. 

Now she was exposed. 

Kokoro was  _ exposed _ . 

And Masara—frozen stiff by what she saw beneath her. Her hands were out in front of her, stuck claw-shaped.  _ ‘But I’m scared,’  _ she had said before. 

_ ‘I feel the same as I did when I thought I’d make your life miserable.’ _

Masara, petrified, glared at Kokoro’s body. What did she think of it? Did she even have an opinion—of these oblong breasts sagging like sandbags, the slight swell of her belly... and her soaking, deprived, depraved slit? 

“I’m… sorry,” Kokoro realized. Masara flinched away in slight horror—only feeling whatever she did now because of Kokoro and her vices. “I shouldn’t have pressured you into this when you clearly don’t feel comfort— _ b’YAAAAAHHHH!”  _

Masara, quietly horrified, released Kokoro’s breast with the stiffness of a claw machine. 

“Now the other one.” Only to reapply her kung fu death grip to Kokoro’s other tit—-this time with nails. “Does this feel good?!” she cried over Kokoro. “Are these moans of pleasure?!” 

_ “MASA-CHAN!”  _

“Koko-chan!” 

_ “Let go of my fucking tit RIGHTFUCKINGNOW!”  _

When she came too moments later, the pain in her chest a dull burn, Kokoro sat up to find her girlfriend tucked away in the corner of their room, silver hair facing the bed. “Goodnight, Koko-chan,” she uttered softly. “H-happy anniversary.” 

This was going to be a long night. 


End file.
